I didn’t give a shit about the story she’d just told us. I knew it wasn’t her idea. I knew she had no beef with us.

She just didn’t give a shit about me. How could she let anyone think I did those things to her?

I stepped closer. “Do you have any idea what prison feels like?” I said to her as Alex and I stood in our soaking clothes and Emmy dropped her eyes, her hair in her face. “You could’ve done anything. You could’ve come clean and told me what you did. You could’ve come to me before you signed that damn paper, and I would’ve had your grandmother sent to the best home in the country!” My voice grew harder again as I shouted. “My parents would’ve paid for your education. You never had to do anything alone!”

It had been years. If she felt badly about what she’d done, it would’ve eaten away at her enough by now that she would’ve owned up. But no. I’d found out through my grandfather who, of course, knew it was all bullshit. I couldn’t believe he, my parents, and Kai’s parents didn’t tell us seven years ago, but they probably knew we’d battle it and just wanted us to take the lesser sentence instead of taking any chances.

Everyone stood around, silent as the train whistle rang in the air outside, and I watched her chin tremble and the lump in her throat move up and down.

“What, are you gonna cry now?” I taunted. “You gonna cry?”

Again?

I’d fucking give her something to cry about. I could understand the position Martin put her in. I sympathized.

But my God, was she blind? All she had to do was tell me. Lean on me. Ask for help. That was all she ever had to do!

“Look at what you made of me,” I said, inching forward and slapping my chest of tattoos that depicted home and all the life I’d lost even before I went to prison. “You made me into this.” I screamed in her face. “You!”

She flinched, but just then, someone pushed my ass back, and I stumbled, looking up and meeting Micah’s eyes.

He slipped in between us, Rory joining him and both of them inserting themselves between Emmy and me and staring at me like a warning.

What the hell? I tipped my chin up, glaring as my guys—my guys—now stood in front of her instead of behind me.

Unbelievable.

Peering between their shoulders, I met her eyes once more. “I reached for you,” I told her. “In my head, all these years. Even after you dumped me like trash and I couldn’t fall out of love with you no matter how much I drank and snorted, my brain reached for you always.”

She remained frozen, not faltering as she stared at me.

“When nothing gave me a reason to get out of bed, my friends were falling in love, making babies, and I felt so alone…” I choked on the tears in my throat I wouldn’t let loose. “What do you think was the only thing that made me keep breathing?” My tone hardened as I clenched my jaw. “In my brain, I reached for you. I never stopped reaching for you.”

And she let her brother tell my family that, not only did I not love her, but I passed her around for my friends to abuse like she was nothing.

When she was everything.

I hardened my voice. “Get the fuck out of my face,” I gritted out. “And it’s fine if you want to get the fuck off the train, too. Go, run back to him.”

I won’t reach for you anymore.

She stood there a moment, her eyes darting around the people in the room and probably wondering something dumb like how she was going to save her pride or some shit.

But then…

She turned and walked away, still dressed in Aydin’s T-shirt and boxers as she slid open the door and slipped into the next compartment.

As soon as she was gone, silence sat like a ten-ton weight in the room, no one speaking.

But then, after a few moments, someone spun me around and threw her arms around me, all of my friends crowding around me as Winter hugged me.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened in there? Why was she there?”

I couldn’t talk right now. I could barely draw in a breath.

Misha pulled me away and yanked me in next, squeezing me so tightly. “What can we do?” he asked. “What do you need?”

And then Damon. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I held up my hands, sweat seeping out of my pores, and my stomach rolling with them so close. “I can’t.” I backed away, trying to get space. “Just…I can’t right now, okay?”

But Michael grabbed me anyway. “Are you okay?”

I growled, yanking away. “Don’t touch me.” I shook my head, the room spinning. “Don’t.”

“All right,” he breathed out, hands off. “I’m sorry.”

They all stopped and stepped away, falling silent. I could feel their eyes on me and their looks between each other, because they didn’t understand, and I couldn’t get into it right now.

I rubbed my eyes, smelling the familiar scent of the cellar on my hands from the rope I’d tied Aydin up with.

Aydin.

I held my nose between my hands, breathing in the house.

I wasn’t ready. I should still be there. I shouldn’t have left.

“I gotta make some phone calls,” I said, turning and heading for the door and leaving them. We were at least five cars from the engine. Hopefully Emmy was hiding her ass somewhere I wouldn’t have to look at her, because I was so mad I could strangle her right now.

“Your name is on your cabin door,” Ryen said, finally speaking up. “There’s clothes in there.”

I slid open the door, wind and the sounds of the wheels on the tracks rushing through, but then Winter spoke up before I could step through.

“Why would he do that?” she asked.

I stopped.

“Who?” Banks asked her.

“Martin Scott.”

I let the door fall closed, quieting the room and remaining a moment.

Winter continued, “If what Emory said was true, why would he work so hard to make sure you all went to jail? Money does the walking in Thunder Bay. Your presence, or lack thereof, wouldn’t make his career.”

I listened, everyone silent as the words hung in the air.

Banks spoke up, figuring it out first. “Unless he’s working with people who have power. People who wanted you in jail.”

My stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

“You heard what she said,” Kai chimed in. “He had plans for Michael, too. And then nothing. Michael never got fingered for anything.”

“Because Trevor didn’t want his family embarrassed,” Misha said.

“Because Evans Crist didn’t want his family embarrassed,” Rika said instead.

I closed my eyes, not surprised at all. My friends picked up on things without missing a beat.

“Motherfucker,” Michael said. “It wasn’t about Will. Or his hatred of Will. His grandfather was coming up for re-election that year. He almost lost because of the bad press.”

“And Kai and Damon?” Banks pressed.

No one said anything, and I finally spoke up. “Evans knew that Schraeder Fane accounted for Damon in his will.” As executor of his estate, he would’ve known who Damon really was. “If he planned on marrying Rika to Trevor, he wouldn’t want to share the fortune with Damon—and by extension, Gabriel.”